


Teacher's Pet

by BelowTheWind



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Cunnilingus, Desk Sex, F/M, Light Hair Pulling, Oral Fixation, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Post-Time Skip, borderline rough sex, claude ripping byleth's tights, from now on all fe3h fics will be written with byleth specifically tho, i just left it first person in case someone wants to rename their byleth, mmm, now time for the goodies, oof, reader is byleth, this was some smut alright
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-24
Updated: 2019-07-24
Packaged: 2020-07-12 16:07:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,281
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19949023
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BelowTheWind/pseuds/BelowTheWind
Summary: It doesn’t surprise you that, even on his own birthday, Claude is still at work.“I think I can convince you to take a break,” you murmur, and it’s almost instinct for him to lean back and out of the way for you, fingers gathering his work and setting it carefully down in one of the desk drawers.“That so, Teach?”There’s a new quality to his voice, now - something a little thicker, deeper than the tired drawl you’d heard from him in the past few minutes.“I believe so.”





	Teacher's Pet

**Author's Note:**

> sO IT'S CLAUDE'S BIRTHDAY YOOO. 
> 
> i pulled him three times in FEH and decided i had to make this some of the best smut i ever wrote in celebration. 
> 
> i've been listening to the E3 main theme. you know that one that starts out sounding like a cult and then at 1:05 it drops and does THAT? yeah. it's been on repeat and is a big ol inspiration. another big ol inspiration is my beautiful friend. thank you for reading my many snippets and agreeing with me that claude definitely has an oral fixation and would high key rip byleth's tights because he has no fear. also that he has a 'teach' kink oof. 
> 
> enjoy you filthy bastards.

It doesn’t surprise you that, even on his own birthday, Claude is still at work. He’d always been a bit of an enigma back at the monastery, though you, however, had found it rather easy to read him. Despite his flirtatious, cheeky nature, Claude still knew how to do what needed to be done, and he wasn’t above a little conniving to get it. 

Some things, though, require a little less conniving, and, well, a little more work. 

Trying to bring peace to the realm, well that required work. 

Still, as you carefully close and lock the door to his office behind you, taking a peek at him over his heavy mahogany desk, you see the furrow of his brow, the faded colour of his eyes. His hair, messier than usual, and his fingers gripping the quill so tightly you’re almost afraid it’s going to crumble in his hand. 

“Clearly, you’ve been working too long.” You murmur. 

He looks up with a start, already pasting a serious look to his features - but relaxes when he sees you standing in front of his door. Claude groans, leans back in his heavy, thickly cushioned chair, and runs a hand through his hair. Ah, that would explain why it’s in even more disarray than it typically is. 

“I think I’m gonna go crazy.” He finally sighs, giving you a tired look. 

“Well. It is your birthday. Why not come get some tea with me, hmm?” 

For a moment, Claude looks like he’s about to stand - he gives you a grateful smile, but then shakes his head, scratching at his sideburns with a heavy sigh of resignation. “Listen, there’s nothing that I would love more, but…” He looks up at you with a tired grin, holding a thick stack of papers in his fingers and patting them with the back of his free hand. “You always taught me to finish my work before I play, right?” 

He drops the the papers back to his desk, both hands sliding up along the sides of his face and into his hair, peering down at them. You watch as the action spreads a small smudge of ink along his skin, lips curling in worry. 

Finally, already dropping your coat from your shoulders, you walk with slow, sure steps - shoes making a pleasant muted sound against the wood boards of the floor. “I think I can convince you to take a break,” you murmur, and it’s almost instinct for him to lean back and out of the way for you, fingers gathering his work and setting it carefully down in one of the desk drawers. 

“That so, Teach?” 

There’s a new quality to his voice, now - something a little thicker, deeper than the tired drawl you’d heard from him in the past few minutes. 

“I believe so.” 

When you turn around, he’s already shed the armor from his shoulder, cape fluttering ever so slightly as he sets it down against the floor. Claude sweeps his hair back from his face again, eyeing you as you take a seat on his desk, crossing one leg lazily over the other. Leaning back on your hands, you kick your foot back and forth, watching him with a playful smirk twisting against your lips. 

He chuckles a little, hands on his hips and shaking his head. “Alright, you’ve caught my attention. For now.” His gaze flickers up and down the length of you, taking the time to drink in your body, despite having seen it trembling, naked, in his bed more times than he can count. 

“For now? What should I do to remedy that?”

Claude huffs a small breath through his nose, striding slowly towards you, hands on your hips as he situates himself between your legs. “Aww, c’mon, Teach. I’m sure you can figure it out.” 

With a good natured roll of your eyes, you carefully fiddle with the straps of your armor, giving your lover an amused smile as you do. “You’re not going to help me out of this?”

“It’s my birthday, dear lady!” He feigns an offended gasp. “Why would I do that?” 

“Cause you could unwrap me like a present, doofus.” 

Claude just grins, eyes still trained on you. “Nah, I think I’ll share the honours this time.” 

“Of course,” you roll your eyes, but ease your armour from your torso, setting it to the floor with just enough care that it wouldn’t be damaged. Moving down, you reach for the zip of your boots, dropping them with a muted thump to the wood panelling and watching as he kicks them out of the way. The skirt comes next, lifting your ass to carefully wriggle it down your legs, letting it hang off your foot for a moment with a playful grin. 

He snorts in amusement and lightly grabs your ankle, hooking your knee at his waist and gliding his hands up your legs, rather enjoying the lacey feel of your tights on calloused fingers. They slide up, over your thighs, across your hips, and down to grind the heel of his hand against your cunt. For a brief moment, you see surprise flash across pretty green eyes, and then he’s shooting you a wicked grin, teasing you through the thin fabric of your tights. 

“ ‘Tea’, huh?” 

You giggle, spreading your thighs a little wider, and he gets a clear view of your cunt through the sheer fabric of the leggings, bare and already wet. “Well, yeah. That was the plan. And then seduce you over some strawberry shortcake back up to our room and ride you till I can’t feel my legs.” 

He watches you a moment, fingers light and teasing - and then, with both hands, he grips at your tights and with a quick tug, tears a hole in them right between your thighs. For a second, you’re absolutely flabbergasted, staring down at your ruined clothing with an air of incredulous shock. 

“Claude! Are you fu-hh-!” 

He’s already got two fingers inside your cunt, curling them up against your walls without any warning. The smug look on his face is infuriating, and you’d probably bark some kind of snarky response if he wasn’t twisting his wrist, pulling his fingers back to the first knuckle, and then pressing them back inside with a smooth, fluid roll of his hand. “Hey now,” he teases, “what happened to all that fight you were showing just a second ago?” 

“I-I liked th- those fh-ucking tights.” You grit your teeth, and he chuckles, smoothing a hand over your hair soothingly. 

“Now, now. You know I can buy you as many pairs as you want.” Something flashes in his eyes, carnal and teasing, “As long as you let me rip those ones, too.”

He pulls his hand away far, far too soon, leaving you quivering a little on his desk, a puddle of your slick slowly growing on the wood just under your ass. You briefly entertain the idea of it leaving water stains on the wood. That would be an interesting story for him to try and pass off. 

But he’s stepping back, gesturing to you with a hand. “It’s my birthday, right?” Claude’s lips curl in to a wicked grin. “I wanna see a show.” 

“Jerk.” You breathe, despite already sliding the tips of your fingers up your thigh. It’s quiet as he watches you, save for your shaky breathing, and the deep drag of his own, clearly aroused. He can hear your nails scratching softly against the material, and for a moment, he almost flips you over and fucks you right there. 

But then you’ve finally reached your pussy, and he’s forgetting all about it. Three fingers slide up and down your dripping slit, pink and flushed with arousal, and he has the urge to sink to his knees, pull your hand away, and suck on that pretty pussy of yours until you’re screaming and cumming against his tongue. 

An index and ring finger spread the folds of your cunt, and he can see, in the bright, harsh light of the midday sun, the way it glistens, twitching, practically begging him to stuff you full with his cock. 

But then your middle finger is teasing at your entrance, gliding up, up, to flick your nail across your clit, and the way your entire body jolts in pleasure has him stripping from his own outfit. His boots are kicked off, pants tugged down around his thighs, and despite the loose way he wore them, it already feels better to have his cock freed. 

He doesn’t bother untying the belt around his waist - he doesn’t think he could manage with the way you’re teasing him, anyways. The coat remains tucked in to his little belt, pom poms tickling his thighs, tugging it open as the heat almost stifles him. 

You’re watching rather intently, scarcely bothering to hide your interest. You’ve slipped two fingers within your walls at this point, blunt nails a pleasant drag against them. He sinks into his chair, watching you tease your clit with the index finger of your other hand, and he mimics the slow circling with his thumb on the head of his cock. 

Claude rests his elbow against the arm of his desk chair, hand curling in to a lazy fist and dropping his cheek to his fingers. His lips part, and you can hear his soft pants as he works himself up, abs twitching with each stroke of his thumb along the slit on his head, smearing sticky fluids around his now slick cock. 

“You look so fucking good.” His voice is hoarse, and he notices, after a moment, that he can hear just how wet you are over the blood rushing in his ears. 

Fuck. 

“Good enough to eat?” You tease, and he rather enjoys that breathless quality to your tone. Would enjoy it more if it was gasping out his name, though. 

His lips curl in to a smirk, gaze flickering up from the show between your thighs to meet your gaze head on. “You know I’m always famished.” The words alone have you mewling, and he gives a low chuckle from deep in his chest, pleased to see your legs twitch in response. 

The sight is enough, he realizes - as he’s already standing up - to make him act on that very remark. You look visibly confused as he kneels in front of you, pulling your hands from between your legs, setting his own on your thighs and spreading them a little wider. They grasp at the underside of your legs, jerking you forward on the desk, your ass just barely resting on it. 

“What-” Your hand is resting in his hair for support, swaying a little before finding your seat properly once again. “Claude, what are you doing?”

He looks up at you, tongue poking out to flick at your clit, rather proud of himself when you jerk in response. “I told you I was hungry, didn’t I?”

“But- it’s your birthday.” 

He raises a brow, unsure of why that matters. 

“Shouldn’t I….I dunno, shouldn’t I be the one pleasing you? It’s _your_ birthday.” 

Claude chuckles, and you feel the hot puffs of air against the slick of your folds. “It is my birthday, you’re right. Which means I get to do it how I want, yeah?” His large hands massage your thighs for a second, kissing along the ripped edge of your tights, “And I wanna eat you until you’re screaming. Watching you fall apart on my tongue _is_ pleasing me.” 

You squirm, nibbling on your bottom lip. “I- alright, yeah. It’s your choice.” 

He flashes you one, quick grin, and then he’s diving between your thighs with the same voracious appetite he’s always had when it came to you. It had been only a little while in to the sexual aspect of your relationship that you’d learned of Claude’s oral fixation, and honestly - you weren’t sure whether to curse or thank it. 

He eats you like a man starved, tongue never sitting still. It lashes a long swipe up between your folds, then back down to dip inside you for a second, curling and twisting and making you squirm. And then he’s back up, lips closing around your clit and sucking hard, humming pleasantly as you rake both hands through his hair, hips jerking from the table and grinding against his face. 

It’s sloppy, wet, lewd sucking sounds sending shivers up your spine. His tongue flicks back inside of you, and he pulls away for a quick gasp of air, cheeks shiny and wet, your slick still connecting your puddling cunt with his glistening tongue, his mouth still open as he dives right back in. 

His teeth touch your clit just so, and you’re cumming with a cry of his name, pulling at his hair. Claude moans against you, lifting your thighs to settle them over his shoulders, gently stroking with the tips of his fingers, tongue slowly teasing along your lips as you come down from your high. 

“That was quicker than usual.” He murmurs against you, and you groan in response, gently tugging at his hair to try and pull him away from you - though after so many years together, you’re well aware that it’s in vain. 

“Claude, stop- so sensitive-” You whine, and he chuckles, nipping at your thigh through your tights. 

“Good, that’s what I’m counting on.” 

He goes back to work, and you almost sob, hearing him groan as your walls flutter around his fingers, which have curled up and inside of you. Claude doesn’t _need_ his fingers to make you cum over and over with his mouth, and he’s well aware of it - but the way you keen, your back arching, fingers gripping at his hair, that’s more than enough to keep him coming back for more. 

Besides, it gives his jaw a bit of a break. 

Scissoring his fingers inside of you, Claude doesn’t relent even when you release a sob of pleasure, tongue lashing at your clit as blunt nails tease at your inner walls. It doesn’t take him long to build you up to a second orgasm, the stimulation enough to force tears of pleasure down your cheeks. 

“Claude, baby, I can’t-”

“Yes you can.” He murmurs softly, kissing your clit with a slow exhale. He lifts his other hand, rubs two fingers slowly against your soaked folds. “I wouldn’t keep going if I didn’t think you could take it.” 

“ ‘S too much-” 

He hums, gripping at your thigh again, replacing his fingers with his mouth once more. Claude’s lips are soft - as they always are, leaving little kisses around your cunt, sucking on your clit here and there. Poking his tongue around again, he glides up first one side, then down the other, before licking around his fingers with firm, sure strokes. 

His beard continues rubbing against your thighs, even more so as you lock them around his head with a sob. You can hear the sloppy sounds of his mouth on your sex, twisting and sucking, sloppy movements edging you closer. Just beyond there, you hear the steady, quiet sound of skin smacking against skin and, as you focus, realize that he’s jerking himself off while eating you out.

There’s a slight burn on your thighs, now, from the steady rasp of his facial hair against some of your most sensitive skin - but it only serves to heighten the pleasure. You can feel his nose against you, fingers withdrawing from your cunt only so that he can grasp at your thigh, fingers digging in to what you’re sure will end up becoming a bruise. 

His brows are furrowed, eyes shut, soft lips at work between your legs in ways that you can barely take, now, but love to remember later. Claude’s name rips past your lips in a whimper, torn and broken as it tumbles off your tongue - starting as a whisper and turning in to an utter symphony with a cacophony of lurid moans and cries to the gods. 

He takes a quick, gasping breath, and the brief glimpse you get of his eyes has your cunt tightening in pleasured anticipation. Hazy, half lidded, utterly lust drunk on the taste of your cunt. His cheeks and lips are completely soaked in your slick, a product of his more than attentive ministrations. 

Your lover gives you only a quick glance and a toothy smirk, before he’s licking at his lips and eating you like a five course meal. Teeth nibble ever so gently at the folds of your pussy, and he noses at your clit before covering it with his lips, looking up to meet your gaze as he flicks his tongue under the hood, and then sucks, _hard_. 

You keen, back arching and hair sticking to your face. Claude moans again, and you fucking _feel_ it, this time. 

The vibrations start at your clit, spiralling out from the small of your back in large, crashing waves, pulling you under and bringing you back to orgasm with a scream of Claude’s name. Honestly, you think you white out for a few seconds, because when you come to again, your thighs twitch almost spasmodically against his shoulders, and he’s gently cleaning you up with his tongue. 

He stays where he is for a little while, rather gentle compared to his earlier fervor. You’re still quivering, and he’s careful when he sets your feet back on the floor, watching you lean against the desk with ragged gulps of air. “Damn, Teach,” you look up at him through your lashes, watching as he wipes his mouth on the back of his hand, “didn’t know I did _that_ much of a number on ya.” 

You wave your hand a little as though shooing him away, carefully easing yourself to a relaxed position against the desk again. “Honestly? My legs feel like jelly.” 

Claude laughs, a rich tone from the pit of his stomach, his hands finding your waist and lifting you to sit up on the desk once again. “Well, it’s a good thing you don’t have to go anywhere, eh?” 

He kicks his pants off, stepping in between your legs again, before frowning. 

“Claude?” 

He huffs, tugging at the cloth belt and letting both it and the rest of his clothing fall to the floor, lightly scooting it out of the way with his bare foot. “Clothes were in the way.” He mumbled, fingers curling around his cock and teasing your slick cunt with the head. You jerk, breath catching in a ball within your throat - he seems all too pleased at the action. 

“You’re always so responsive for me.” Claude murmurs, almost a coo as he leans in to brush his lips - warm and oh so soft - across your cheek. The skim down and along the sharp of your jaw with ardent fervor, a hand sliding along your cheek and in to your hair, skating it back and away so he can nip at your ear. 

His breath is hot as he speaks again, and you can feel his lips twitching against skin as he whispers; “I can’t wait to see how you fall apart on my cock.” 

You mewl almost immediately, a heavy arousal stomping itself low in your gut and adding to the slick of your already drenched pussy. Claude knows exactly what you’re like when he gets inside you, and you’re well aware that he does. The teasing was for your reaction, and nothing more - judging by the laugh he muffles in your throat, sucking a mark where your armour will just cover, you figure that it was the one he was hoping for. 

Warm hands, broad and calloused from years of bowwork, skim over your waist, up the soft curve of your stomach, and grab at your breasts. He lifts them to his mouth as he bends down to meet them halfway, tongue rasping hard and hot over first one nipple, and then the next, giving a soft squeeze of his fingers as he does so. 

“Why does every part of you taste so fucking good?” Claude finally speaks in an almost debauched groan, a lewd, throaty sound that has your thighs gripping tightly to his hips. Despite your clear, imploring gesture, he continues to lave attention to your breasts, soft sighs and throaty grumbles against plush flesh. 

“Are you done teasing?” It takes you a while to find your voice, but you attempt to hurry him up when you do. He just laughs, presses his face between your breasts a moment and sighs. 

“You’re so impatient. Can’t I appreciate you a little, first?”

“Claude-”

“You’re supposed to be my present, right? I really wanna make sure I enjoy my gift.” He grins, amused at your near delirious moan of frustrated pleasure. 

Claude clicks his tongue, straightening his back again and allowing your long legs to pull him back towards you, the soft scratch of your lace stockings on his hips absolutely exquisite. “Alright, alright. I guess I can make an exception for now.” His gaze is near scorching when it lands on you, eyes belying a craving for you that you know full well he intends to sate. “But I intend to play with you a little longer when we get back to our room.” 

He gives his cock a few tugs, then brushes it between your legs again. “Deal?”

You whine, reaching up and digging blunt nails in to his shoulders. “Yes, deal, just _stop your fucking teasing._ ” 

With a single, messy brow raised, he shrugs - broad shoulders rolling and muscles shifting beneath your gripping fingers. He doesn’t give a word of warning, and you don’t ask him to. 

Claude snaps his hips forward, moving his hand away to instead grasp at your hip as he buries himself inside of you, more than a little entranced by the way your body splits to take his girth. He’s always seemed to find immense satisfaction in the way your cunt yields to him, the steady little flutter of your inner muscles after he first finds himself sheathed within you. Lifting a hand, he lazily rubs two fingers up and down your folds, pinching lightly at your clit and giving a shaky groan when you jerk, gripping his dick tightly with your cunt. 

“Mm, you always feel so good.” He praises, face buried in your neck, lips working softly at your throat. “So wet and eager for me. That eager to get wrecked, Teach?” 

Your thighs squeeze around him in response, and he laughs. 

“Understood.” 

And then he’s twisting his hips, grinding, teasing, working you up to the brink of near madness and crying out in to the office for him to just fuck you already. He doesn’t relent, thumb coming in to give a hard rub to your clit, a pleased “mmm…” grumbling from his throat as your body reacts far outside your mental capacity, no longer in control of your desperate actions. 

Despite the teasing, the feel of his cock spreading you open is utterly blissful, and you can’t really keep the giddy gleam from your eyes, meeting the ardent anguish of his own - enjoying the teasing, but finding that he’s torturing himself just as much as you. 

“I guess I’m feeling forgiving.” He finally hisses, and you’re fully aware that he’s simply at his breaking point, as well. Claude doesn’t waste a moment, taking your hips in both hands and yanking you toward him as his hips slam forward, birthing a carnal cacophony of echoing slaps of skin against skin, hips against hips. Your stockings continue grating against his thighs, and his positive that there’s going to be red scratches there when he looks later, but he’s got more important things at hand, at the moment. 

Namely, the curve of your hips, giving way to the dip of your waist that he runs his hands across almost reverently, and then the heavy handfuls he grasps of your breasts, thumbs flicking across the nipples as you shoot a hand between your legs. He looks down, watches you spread your folds, middle finger teasing at your clit and- fuck, he watches himself burying his cock to the hilt, watches his hips press up against yours, watches your finger rolling around your clit and working you back up to your third orgasm of the afternoon (though certainly not of the day, he’d sated his earlier needs that morning). 

“Dirty little minx, hm? I think I rather like it.” He gives you a charming grin, delighting at the flutter of your eyelids between open and closed. He’s just getting started, and you already look well fucked. “Don’t tell me you’re clocking out already?” Claude teases, thrusts picking up in vigour as the desk starts creaking slightly. One particularly forceful snap of his hips actually has the legs grating against the floor in a sharp cry. 

“Look at you. Falling apart just like I said you would.” 

He lifts a hand from your chest, grasping at your chin. His thumb slides over your tongue, an avaricious gleam in his eyes. “I love seeing you like this.” 

The look he sends your way is positively sinful, as is the steady drag of his length against your sensitive walls, an absolutely exquisite sort of pain that is utterly numbed by the pleasure. His thumb rubs along your jaw, before setting his hand to your hip again. “How do you feel?” He almost purrs, leaning in to tug at your bottom lip with his teeth, soft pink caught between a set of white. 

“Good.” You whine as he lets go, “So good so f-fuck- fucking good-” Dull nails scratch across the broad, tanned expanse of his back. “Oh gods-” 

“The gods ain’t here, darlin’.” His lips work at your throat, teeth leaving a pleasant trail across your pulse. “Just me and you.” 

You sob, overwhelmed with pleasure buffeting you from head to toe. From his lips on your neck, his hand on your breast, the other anchored to your hip, to his cock splitting you wide, and to the heat of his thighs brushing against yours. 

“You sound wrecked already.” Claude teases, but he’s rather breathless, as well. “Like you’re about to cum.” He almost snarls the final word, both hands now grabbing at your thighs and gripping tight. His fingers dig in to supple flesh, the softness giving way for the rough press he exerts. 

Keening, your head throws back, teal hair sticking to your shoulders and back. Claude lifts one hand from your thighs to tangle in your hair, keeping your head tugged back as he litters your throat with marks, seemingly uncaring about the way others will talk. 

He’s usually fairly careful, not wanting to subject you to teasing or even scrutiny from other people - but something about you now has every ounce of self control going up in flames. “C-Claude-!” 

Your name tumbles from his lips in response, and he hisses, blunt nails of your hands digging in to his skin. Marks he’ll wear with pride, later. 

Or teasingly show off to you the next time you’re alone. 

The column of your throat entices him further, tongue laving a broad stripe up to flick away at your chin, before finding your lips and utterly dominating your mouth. He can feel you moan, like this - the vibrations against his mouth, the keens and mewls and cries that he eagerly swallows, hips rough and dangerously powerful as he yearns to hear even more. 

The kiss breaks with a sharp gasp of air on both ends, and he’s pleased to see the drool against the corner of your mouth, tongue darting out in response. “Teach, fuck-” 

Your legs curl about his hips, tugging him right up against your chest, breasts pressing against the hard expanse of his own. There’s a desperation to his movements, now - a dangerous carnality that has you on edge. 

The desk continues shaking slightly, legs every so often scraping against the thick wood flooring with the sheer depravity of his thrusts. His eyes land on your breasts, watching them bounce with every body shaking snap in to your utterly drenched cunt. The puddle beneath you is large enough that it leaks off the edge of the desk, now, leaving a small drop on the floor, steadily growing in size. Slick sticks to your thighs and his own, leaving wet strings of arousal between the two of you. 

“Hah….I...I set out to tease you, but-” Claude groans, “I don’t think I’m gonna last much longer, Teach.” 

Your arms drag up from his back to latch around his neck, hands sliding to his jaw, fingers lost in his hair. Angling his head down, his forehead rests against yours, noses brushing with every thrust, hot breaths and gasping pants meeting between you in the otherwise still silence of his personal office. 

“Please.” You rasp, and he gives off a throaty moan at the desperation in your tone, “Inside, Claude. Cum in- inside-”

Your words must have set him off, because for just a moment, you feel his cock twitching, throbbing inside of you - and then he tenses, a silent, debauched cry against your lips as his hips spasm briefly, thick ropes of cum painting your inner walls with the thickness of his seed. It’s hot, sticky, and you feel so fucking _full_. 

When your orgasm hits you, you’re completely unsure if it’s from the rough fucking you just received, or the feeling of his cum _still_ flooding you (you’re not sure how he could have that much, he just filled you earlier this morning - you passed by your now clean sheets hanging on the line when you came up here), but it’s borderline violent. 

Almost screaming his name, you cling to his body, holding him close as the wave of your release washes over you from head to toe. You’re nearly blinded for a second or two, white lights flashing wickedly behind your eyelids as you squeeze them shut, burying your face in to his wide, sweaty shoulder. 

When you finally return to your senses, Claude is still slumped against you, his cock softening but still plugging his cum inside of you. He takes a few shaky breaths, extricating himself carefully from your hold and gently tugging his cock from your cunt. 

Both of you hiss at the drag of him against sensitive flesh. 

When he pulls out, a steady trickle of his cum leaks from your flushed pussy, dripping down over your ass and joining the puddle of your slick on the wood floor of his office. 

After a moment, you laugh, breathless, and meet his gaze - now much calmer than before. “We should probably get that cleaned before it leaks in to the wood.” You tease, and he snorts in response, shaking his head before kissing the top of yours. 

“I think….that was my favourite birthday present to date, Teach.” 

You give him a soft smile. “Yeah? I’m gl-”

“No, wait. I remember I got this awesome new bow I’d been looking at when I was 14. _That_ was the best present I ever got.” 

You gape at him, before scoffing and lightly slapping the back of your hand to his chest. “You’re awful!” 

Claude laughs, scooping you in to his arms and playfully spinning you around a little, careful when he sets your feet - legs still quivering lightly - back on the floor. His laughter is contagious, you realize, as you join in a moment later, wound tightly in his arms. 

Outside, your laughter drifts from the open window of his office, and out over the courtyard below - losing itself to the wind.

**Author's Note:**

> as always, this is pre-release so don't @ me later. 
> 
> you can hit me up to chat or for requests at my writing tumblr, windy_scribbles. 
> 
> i hope you enjoyed this filth as much as i enjoyed writing it <3


End file.
